About

IMG_0007_NEWThe first year I was a pastor’s wife, I was a youth pastor’s wife. I was twenty-three and I read an article in a Christian magazine that was fanned out on the tiny breezeway of our tiny church. The article was titled “Sprucing Up the Narthex” and I made a lot of fun of it. In my defense, it deserved it, because it was an article about the myriad design decisions that come along with running a church, especially one with a narthex. It talked about how usually pastors overlooked these design decisions and it left them with messy, unkempt, unstyled spaces that made people hate Jesus.

In a rather predictable turn of fate, I now have a narthex. It needs a little sprucing up– in more ways than one, perhaps, and sometimes I wish I had saved that article in a scrapbook of some sort, but this was before Pinterest.

I am the pastor’s wife at a little (and yes, I do mean little) church in the middle of Los Angeles eighteen blocks from the ocean and only a few blocks from some of the biggest film and music studios in the world. Probably the owner of NBC lives down the street. Definitely I saw Jessica Alba at Target last week.

Our church is nothing like the description of the locale sounds, though. We are more of the bulletin-boards-and-old-marquee-sign-ten-year-old-Mother’s-Day-mints-still-singing-Lord-I-Lift-Your-Name-on-High variety. We use push pins and rubber bands and cassette tapes. We have potlucks. Good ones. We remember when our church boasted the fantastic 34-Voice Choir and we probably still have the matching powder-blue outfits, with their huge lapels, in storage somewhere.

Becoming a pastor’s wife isn’t really something that most of us, who are pastors’ wives, ever planned for. At least I didn’t. Back in college, because I was such a realist, I thought my then-boyfriend was going to be a major-league baseball player. And although I don’t fit many of the existing ideas about what and how and who a pastor’s wife should be, this blog is my attempt to chronicle what kind of pastor’s wife I am, or, better, what kind of Christ follower I am. It will ask questions and pray for grace and notice small things and clean up and move on and consider and wonder and revel and reconsider. It will begin to spruce up the narthex.

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